


Shoelaces

by lampshaded (illuicient)



Series: A Choice of Influence [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-16
Updated: 2008-03-16
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:59:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuicient/pseuds/lampshaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>500-word gift drabble. A short fic about a tiny closet and its jinxed occupant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoelaces

It was stupid really, but whoever had made the jinx had to have been bloody brilliant. Too bad I was on the wrong end of it, without a counter. Where were those buffoons—Crabbe and Goyale, when you needed them?

I huffed and tried to move, but the bonds were too tight. A cloud of breath streamed into the cold air above me as I tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position on the floor.

My own shoelaces—honestly, what a jinx. I’d only been trying to explore a bit. When I’d stepped into this tiny, one-windowed closet, my shoelaces had suddenly grown and were now binding me from head to toe. It’d taken long enough to finally work my mouth free to call for help.

But then—what if someone did find me? Someone from…Hufflepuff—walking in and finding a Malfoy bound in his own shoelaces on this dirty floor?

I could feel my face flame at just the thought. Ironically enough, the cupboard door opened a few short minutes later. And I wished it had been a Hufflepuff.

Laughing green eyes regarded my red face from under a messy fall of black hair. His mouth opened, probably to taunt or deride me—just before his own shoelaces suddenly sprung themselves untied and wrapped around his startled form. 

I laughed at him as he stood with confused, wide eyes, but my victory was short. Just a moment later he wobbled and fell forward; I got his bloody bony shoulder in my gut. 

“Get off you—!” I yelled and recoiled. I knew there were going to be Potter-shaped bruises on my knees and stomach soon. He grumbled at me from under his wrappings and moved some more. After many long minutes of difficult scramblings, we finally came to a mutually comfortable position—sitting back to back and staring at the filthy walls in front of us. It felt like my face would never stop burning. Of all people, why’d it have to be him?

“This is all your fault!” I informed the head behind mine. He growled something in return, still working on his mouth bindings. “Now my dignity is completely gone! Trapped in a broom cupboard with a Potter—!” I spat, pushing against his warm back and trying to gain more leg room in front of me.

“It is not my fault you’re in here!” He finally yelled. It hurt and rang my ears; we were in such a small space. The silence stretched.

“I’d rather be trapped alone.” I told him quietly.

“Would you?” His soft, poisonous voice asked.

“I would at least retain some of my pride!” I snarled in return. Being this close to him was skewing my judgment.

“I think being locked in a small space alone is worse.” He said, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it.

“Are you saying you’d rather be stuck in here with me?” I asked, incredulous. For some reason, my heart stared to race.

“Maybe.”


End file.
